Beginnings (17 page)

“Oh, good.” She counted them, then twisted her lips into a funny pout. “I hope I’ll have enough nails to hold things in place. It’s a big window.” Her gaze returned to the glass-scattered platform.

Andrew stepped forward, hands in pockets, and looked down at the unconstructed window, too. “You have a month,” he reminded her, but he knew the amount of time it took to put the pieces together for a small work. This window was not a small work.

“A month...” Her voice quavered, mute evidence of her uncertainty. “And that lilac-and-cardinal piece still needs completion.”

“I’ll do the lilac-and-cardinal piece. I can follow the drawing as well as you. You keep going.” Andrew wondered when he had finally let go of the idea of working on McCauley’s window. He also wondered at the wisdom of making such a promise when Dad was pressuring him to be at the farm. Then an idea hit. An idea for striking a deal. But not with Beth—with Albert Braun, his father.

FIFTEEN

Sean held the digital camera over his head, hoping the angle would capture the entire platform. He prayed his face hadn’t reflected the dismay he felt when he’d seen how little of the project was put together. For a few moments, he had considered not taking pictures at all, but Dad and Patrick expected to see evidence of Beth’s work. Besides, he’d told Beth he would be taking pictures, so he felt trapped. He just hoped Dad’s reaction wouldn’t be negative.

He snapped twice, checked the screen, and sucked in a satisfied breath—he’d caught the whole thing. But a frown formed as he examined the image and anticipated his father’s concern. Didn’t Beth understand speed was as important as quality? McCauley Church Construction was known for keeping its schedule—late-arriving windows could slow construction and cast a bad light on the entire company.

“I know it doesn’t look like much now because it’s just the border. I started with that to be certain the dimensions would fit the window casing exactly.” Beth’s voice pulled his attention away from the camera. She wove her fingers together and pressed them to her stomach. “But it
will
come together.”

“Oh, I know.” Sean chose his words carefully. “I’ve seen your completed works, so I know you have the
ability
to finish this one.” He forced a soft chuckle. “But I bet you didn’t realize how time-consuming a piece of this size could be.”

Her nod bounced her shining ponytail. “You’re right. It is a major project.” She drew a deep breath that raised her shoulders. “But I’ll be done on time. I made a commitment—I’ll keep it.”

The fervency in her tone encouraged Sean and increased his admiration. Her determination to be successful must equal his. They were a perfect match in so many ways.

Placing his hand on her shoulder, he gave a slight squeeze. “I know you will. I trust you. But”—he felt her tense—“it does seem to be moving more slowly than we had expected.”

Sean waited, giving her an opportunity to explain delays, but Beth remained silent, her lips clamped tightly together. He offered another squeeze of her shoulder before lowering his hand, pleased that she hadn’t rattled off excuses.

“If you’re going to need an extension, now is the time to ask so we can modify the construction schedule. That isn’t something we do in the middle of a project, but it can be done before we send out a crew.”

Beth shook her head. Her ponytail swung so hard it slapped her on the side of the neck. “No. Don’t modify your schedule. I said I’d have it done, and I will.”

The stubborn set to her jaw made Sean want to smile, but he swallowed and managed to maintain a businesslike demeanor. “Thank you for your diligent attitude. That’s exactly what McCauley Church Construction desires.” He paused, hoping his next words would be accepted in the manner intended. “And expects.”

Beth looked at him, her brow puckering momentarily. Then she gave a small nod, biting down on her lower lip. “I understand. Don’t worry.”

Although he hated to admit it, Sean was worried. He knew the demands that would be placed on Beth should she end up being McCauley’s designated designer. He also recognized his own desire to spend time with her, to get to know her as a woman rather than an employee. If she didn’t meet this first deadline, his father wouldn’t trust her with a second, and Sean’s time with her would be over.

Mixed emotions warred inside of him as he said, “I’ll try not to worry, but you try to pick up the pace a bit, huh? We want this to work out—for all of us.”

“Then I’d better get busy.” Turning her back on him, she knelt on the platform and picked up a piece of glass.

He watched for a few moments, intrigued by her focus despite the fact he stood behind her. It didn’t take long for him to feel uncomfortable and neglected. He cleared his throat.

She looked over her shoulder, her ponytail cupping her cheek. “I’m sorry. Did you need something else?”

“Um, I guess not.” He released one brief huff of laughter, then lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “And I am expected in Carlton in...” He glanced at this wristwatch. He had plenty of time, but he realized diverting her attention would only slow her work. “Soon.” Backing toward the door, he held up the camera. “Thank you for the pictures. I’ll be in touch.”

A nod gave her only reply, and he stepped out the door. He knew he should appreciate her focus and dedication to the project. After all, he’d meant to convey the importance of meeting the deadline, and her actions only proved he’d succeeded. Yet a regret he didn’t fully understand hovered over him the remainder of the day.

***

Thursday morning, Andrew’s truck followed Beth into the parking area behind the studio. He swung out of his cab and jogged across the uneven ground to open her door for her.

“Good morning,” she greeted. “Thanks.” They walked side by side to the stoop where she unlocked the back door. “How did your day go in the fields yesterday?” She asked as they stepped into the studio.

Andrew didn’t smile. “It went fine.”

She shot him a curious look. “Wasn’t your father pleased to have you back?”

Andrew chuckled, but it lacked his usual enthusiasm. He tugged at his smooth-shaven cheek with one finger. “Yes, but he’s still grumbling about only having me two days a week.”

Beth leaned against the worktable, crossing her arms. “I’m sorry working here has created so many problems for you.” Henry had informed Beth that Andrew’s father opposed his son dabbling in art. Andrew paid a price to be here, and she knew she didn’t show him enough appreciation for his choice. Somehow she needed to rectify that.

Andrew crossed to the cabinet and removed goggles and gloves. “It isn’t your fault. My dad and me ... we haven’t seen eye to eye on much since I was pretty young. He’s always gotten along better with my brothers.”

Beth considered his words. Oddly, some of Sean’s comments from yesterday replayed through her mind. Both men hinted at difficult relationships with their fathers. Even so, she experienced a stab of envy. At least they each had a relationship with a father—something she’d never known.

She opened her mouth, intending to encourage him to try to work things out, but she realized if Andrew were to satisfy his father, it would mean the end of his working here. Confused over which choice was right, she chose silence.

Pushing off from the worktable, she crossed the floor to retrieve her own gloves. “Well, just wait until this window is finished and the contracts with McCauley come rolling in,” she found herself saying. “Your father will be glad you had a part in that.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

His growling tone gave Beth a chill. She shrugged it off and said with a forced nonchalance, “Well, let’s get busy, huh?”

As Beth worked, meticulously fitting the pieces within their lead came framing, her mind tripped over Sean’s visit yesterday and his obvious concerns about her ability to complete the project. She understood; she held the same concerns. Glancing up at the calendar on the wall, she felt her heart skip a beat. Even if she continued working Monday through Saturday, that left only twenty-two days to finish.

She looked back at the wooden platform. Its expanse seemed endless, emphasized by the colorful border of glass held in place with dull, silver horseshoe nails.
How will I get this done, Lord? Help me!
her heart begged. So many of her prayers recently had centered around this project. Her business. Gaining new contracts.

Fitting another wedge of glass into place, she defended that focus to herself. What else did she have besides her business? She didn’t have a husband. Or children. Or even a church family like the rest of the community. Her studio was her life. God surely understood that and would honor her prayers to build it. After all, hadn’t He given her this ability and paved the way for her to discover it? Surely He would now bless it with the means to keep it going, to build it, to be successful. Why else would He have brought Sean McCauley to her doorstep?

Sean McCauley. A picture of his face appeared in her memory. Not the image from yesterday, with worry creasing his brow, but the first time—the open, eager, interested expression that lit his blue-green eyes and brought a curving smile to his lips beneath the neat mustache.

Although their contact hadn’t been excessive and had been largely limited to e-mails and telephone calls, she felt as though she knew him well. She recognized in him the same drive to succeed that existed in her own heart, and it both impressed and terrified her. What if his drive to succeed ending up forcing her off the road?

She sat up and rubbed her lower back, working loose the kinks that always formed from leaning over the platform. While she worked the tight muscles, her thoughts pressed on, constricting her chest. Would she ever be able to trust a man to have her interests at heart rather than his own?

Behind her, the scraping of the stool’s legs against the concrete floor reminded her of Andrew’s presence. Although he had been faithful in his commitment to helping her, she still couldn’t fully trust that his diligence wasn’t selfishly motivated.

She remembered his shining eyes when he’d explained the compromise he’d worked out with his father. Originally, he had only planned to work at her studio until it was time to cut the winter wheat. That was happening now all around Sommerfeld. But he had gained approval to work in the fields two days a week—Wednesday and Saturday—and continue in the studio the remaining weekdays. She frowned as she recalled his exact words when he had explained the details of his arrangement:
“But once you prove this studio can support us full-time, my father is willing to let me pursue art as my job instead of farming. So let’s do it!”

That seemed to prove that his desire to get her business up and going had more to do with his own desires to pursue art than with a genuine interest in seeing her dreams come true. And it also made her wonder if he would try to undermine her in order to become the artist rather than the employee.

Bolting to her feet, she spun to face him. “Andrew.”

He jumped, dislodging the piece of glass he’d been placing. With a grunt, he slid the piece back where it belonged and then looked at her.

“I was counting the days I have left to meet the McCauley deadline.”

Andrew’s gaze drifted briefly to the calendar. He turned back to her and nodded.

“I’m not sure I can do it, even working Saturdays. I’m thinking about working Sundays, too—just the afternoons. I’d still go to the meetinghouse in the morning.” Her mother would have choice words if Beth skipped Sunday services, and she also knew she shouldn’t expect God to make time for her if she didn’t carve out time for Him. “What do you think?”

“You would dishonor God’s third commandment?”

Beth blinked twice. He both looked and sounded flabbergasted. “What do you mean?”

“We are commanded to keep the Sabbath day holy. That means following God’s example to rest.”

Suddenly Beth understood. He referred to one of the Ten Commandments Moses brought to the people—she had read about it in one of the earliest Old Testament books, although she couldn’t remember if it was Genesis or Exodus. “So the people of Sommerfeld wouldn’t take kindly to my working then, huh?”

Andrew shook his head, sadness in his eyes. “Beth, when I say
we,
I don’t mean Mennonites only. I mean Christians. That includes you. Your God takes seriously His teachings. Rest is important. You wear down and get sick if you never rest. God knows this. That’s why He gave us the instruction.”

Well,
her mind argued,
God understands I have a deadline hanging over
my head!
But she didn’t voice the thought. Andrew’s serious expression held her too-often-flippant tongue. “Okay.” She sighed. “I won’t work on Sundays. I’ll just work a few more hours every other day.”

When Andrew’s brows pinched, she laughed. “I know what you’re thinking. I already look awful.” She tipped her head and smirked. “Yes, I
do
look in the mirror on occasion.”

His ears turned bright red, and she knew he remembered his uncomplimentary comment from Monday.

“But it won’t be for much longer. Twenty-two more days,
excluding
Sundays, to be exact. Then, with contract in hand, I will advertise for two or three more employees. I will instruct you and those additional employees to put together stained-glass windows. And I will be the creative force behind the windows!” She threw her arms outward and exploded in an exaggerated laugh of glee. “And I will have it all!”